Chasing Ghosts
by rawpotato
Summary: ONE-SHOT. Lisbon makes her feelings known. Jane makes his intentions known. Just an idea of how it could be. ONE TIME ONLY!


_**Disclaimer: **I do not now, nor have I ever owned The Mentalist. Which is just fine by me. If I did own it, all we would ever see is Jane and Lisbon kissing. Though, if you are reading this I'm sure you wouldn't mind. I know I wouldn't._

_**AN: **This is an idea that had been floating around my head for some time now. I don't claim to know how the relationship between Jane and Lisbon is going to pan out. I wish I did, but that would take all the fun out of watching The Mentalist on TV. However, the creators of the show, and both Simon Baker and Robin Tunney have said that the characters have feelings of the romantic sort for each other. I wish I knew physcology so I could sound credible when I pyscoanalyze the characters but I don't. I do however think that this is a very plausible scenario for the relationship to go on._

_Anyways, enough of me. Onto the story. I hope you enjoy it._

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It had been yet another one of those times when Teresa Lisbon wished that Patrick Jane had never been involved with her team. His blatant disregard for the rules, his childish and immature tactics, and his incessant need to undermine her team at any given moment had finally taken it's toll on her. It wasn't that she hated him, quite the opposite actually. Which was the basis of her problem. She was starting to fall for him. He was undeniably attractive, jealousy streaked through her whenever another woman looked at him the way she knew she sometimes looked at him, and that bothered her. A lot.

Even though she knew, very well in fact, that he only started working with her to catch Red John, she still wondered why he came back. His excuse was that he'd had nothing else to do, and it had tugged at her heart strings. She was powerless to refuse him when he flashed his large cerulean eyes, batted his beautiful lashes, and looked like the image of perfection he was. She hated him. Except for the times that she liked him, which usually outweighed the hatred.

"Lisbon!" Even his voice grated her nerves when she was this angry at him. Usually she could drown in the smooth, velvet tones of his voice, but now it grated her like cheese.

Turning sharply to face him, she hitched her best 'tough-guy boss-lady' look on her face and asked, more demanded, "What?"

He pulled up just short of her, and she inwardly cursed his parents for making such a beautiful man, and she couldn't help but give him the once over. His charcoal gray, pin striped three piece was immaculate as ever, and his baby blue shirt was open just enough to give a peak at the soft skin of his chest. She was after all a woman. An angry woman, but woman none the less.

"Whoa." He knew what he'd did was wrong, lying to a suspect, dragging her and her team through the mud, then having the audacity to bring her name into it to clear him. "I take it your angry."

"You don't have to be you, to figure that out. What the hell were you thinking Jane?" She knew the answer to that already. He wasn't. He was so bent on his foolish journey of revenge, that when it came to solving that case he would stop at nothing. Even breaking the law. It didn't surprise her, his disdain for the law was evident in all he did. Which made her question his true motives for sticking around. He was a paradox, and she didn't understand him.

"Well of course you don't. But you are obviously angry, and I'm not sure why." He knew. She knew that he knew, that he knew.

"Do not pull that with me Jane. You know damn well why I am angry." She was fuming. She was so angry that she fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. They were alone in the office, and she knew that the childish motions would match him very well, and she hated that she was acting like him. She was spending far too much time with him.

"Of course I know. I was just trying to understand why you can't seem to understand that I don't care about myself. I want Red John dead, and no amount of 'law' is going to stop me until he is dead." His voice had taken on that hopelessly defiant tone that it did whenever he talked about Red John. His eyes, usually light and full of jovial mischief, turned cold and distance, his body became tense and his smiling face turned hard. He basically shut himself down whenever the serial killer was mentioned, causing Teresa to want to pull him into her arms and protect him, as if she could squeeze away all the quilt he felt.

"I still think you'd choose life Patrick." She knew this was a fight that she would never win. She would stick by her morals and arrest him if he did get his wish. Though she knew she would go to the ends of the earth and learn how to bake a file into a cake. The conversation from the past floated back into her mind, and the present Patrick resembled the man that he had been in the cellar. She was falling in love with him, and needed him to realize that she cared for him deeply, wither he returned her feelings or not.

"You are still wrong." His voice had the defeated, defiant, and destroyed tone to it, and it propelled her forward to stand inches away from him. The man stood a good six inches above her, and this close she could see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes, and the sparkle that usually resided there left it's traces when he tried to hide it.

The cop in her noticed that his whole demeanor had change when the subject was brought up. His breathing had become deep, and quick as if his body was bracing itself for a fight. His pupils expanded with the rush of adrenaline, and his body became taught with the expectation of the same fight. He was ready to fight for what he wanted, or run away from what he was so afraid of. She wasn't sure which.

The woman in her, however, noticed that his defeated tone spread to his body on his last words. The normally poised man was slouched over, hands in his pocket and avoiding her gaze. They had shared so much in the past three years that she still didn't understand why he was so bent on revenge.

Reaching up, she placed her hands on his chest, and looked deep into his eyes, softening her features, she willed the anger to leave her body, and as it did it left compassion in it's wake as she went to make her move. Standing on her tiptoes she lightly placed her lips against his and kiss him. It wasn't long, or passionate, just a chaste expression of her feelings for him.

Going back down firm footed she noticed that his eyes were still closed, and his lips were still slightly parted. He hadn't returned her actions, and she hated expected him to. She didn't know if he had seen that coming, or if she had truly caught him off guard. Taking a step back from him, she slowly removed her hands from his chest, the soft material of his suit leaving tingles in her fingertips, she wanted nothing more than to move back to him, and kiss him until he kissed her back, and held her in his strong arms. She held her self back, knowing that the ring he still wore was a big obstacle to whatever he was working through.

"Why did you do that?" His voice was a whisper, holding some of the joy that usually filled it, and having lost all of the previous inflictions. The look on his face clearly portrayed that she had in fact taken him off guard.

"Because I care for you Patrick." More than she would ever admit to him, especially right now. She had just laid her feelings for him bare in the soft kiss she had given him. "You don't seem to be hearing my words, so I needed you to know that I care wither or not you are dead, or spending your life in jail."

He seemed to be processing her words, and flexing his hands into and out of fists, working through her words. She knew that he was just being Jane, working through her words trying to find her meaning. she had learned early on that lying to him wasn't an option, and that saying what you meant right away couldn't lead to any awkward moments when he called you on your crap. "But why a kiss?"

"It was the first idea that popped into my head." She was telling the truth, the idea to kiss him had sprung from emotions that she usually kept locked down, and didn't show anyone. She acted on impulse, and if he wanted to kiss her, she sure would spend time asking about his motives. She just wanted to kiss him.

"Teresa." The simple use of her first name cause her heart to push out a staccato beat, and demand her hands to reach out and touch him again. She wouldn't of course, but she wanted to, desperately.

"Patrick. I will not chase after you while you chase after ghosts." She swallowed, as he took a step forward questioning her resolve in her words. He killed a man for her life, and she knew he hated violence. If he was that willing to break his limits for her, would she really be willing to arrest him. Shaking her head, she continued, knowing that she had to get the words out there to him, so he would understand that she understood. "I know what Red John means to you Patrick. Honestly I do. But your recklessness in the chase is doing more damage than you think. I wasn't lying when I told you there are people that care about you, people that need you." With every word her inched a bit closer to her, and she felt herself getting quieter and quieter.

Finally he was standing a little more than an inch away, his body so close that all she had to do was lean a little, and they would be touching. He had a magnetic like pull over her which she didn't understand, and she wasn't sure she had the strength to resist that pull for an extended period of time. She released a breath she hated known she was holding in when he raised his hand and placed it on her cheek. She swallowed deeply and moved her face into his palm fully, relishing the warmness that radiated from his touch.

"I understand that you care for me Teresa. I care for you deeply." She wanted to protest, to contest his words by his actions, but he quickly laid his lips on her and kissed her. She responded quickly and reached up and fisted the lapels of his jacket in her hands, holding him close. The kiss didn't last long, and when he pulled back, and rested his head on her forehead, she knew that her actions and words tonight would have no effect on him. She found she didn't care as much as she thought she would, and she kept her eyes closed.

They stood that way for a moment or two, Teresa committing each moment, feeling, scent and second to memory, knowing that kissing Patrick Jane was a bad idea. It had been more than she had expected from him, but knew that it probably wouldn't happen again, unless he got over his macabre need for his version of justice.

She stepped back knowing that if she didn't now, she would be hard pressed to be sensible later on, becoming more and more intoxicated with the moment as every second ticked by.

"But..." She paused, knowing what he was thinking. "You aren't going to stop."

He shook his head, his blond curls swaying with the motion. "Not until he's stopped."

She nodded, and moved towards the door of the CBI, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his couch. At the door, she stopped and turned to him, still standing where she left him. She gazed at his back for a moment, sadness welling in her for what she knew would never happen for them. It didn't stop her feelings for him, the hope that one day, when this was over, they could have a future.

"Patrick," She called his name softly, and the usual Jane smile that graced his face was back, causing her to smile in return. Granted she knew her motions were just an act, she hoped that his smile was real. "I will be here. For you when you need me." She meant her words, and meant the next ones even more. "I wasn't lying when I said I cared for you. I promise you that when you have what you need. I will be here." She watched as he nodded, and turned away. At the elevators she turned sharply, having one more thing to say to him.

"Patrick," She called him once more, hoping that he would hear rather than listen to her words.

"Yes, dear Teresa?" He still hadn't moved from his spot in the middle of the room, and she saw him turn to her, and she felt emotions surface that she hadn't felt in a while. Fear and love for one person, all mingled together.

"I won't follow you while you chase your ghosts." She didn't say what she meant, that she couldn't. Because it would hurt her more than anything if anything happened to him.

"I know you can't Teresa." He nodded, and she was amazed that he had read that in her words. She had chose them carefully, hoping that he wouldn't see past what she had said. Then again he was Jane, and she knew that he always saw past anything she did.

"Goodnight then Jane." She used his last name, using his last name as a way to distance herself from the moment that they had just shared. Hoping that the intimacy that she had felt moments ago, would stop with his last name.

"Goodnight dear Lisbon." Her heart trilled at his words, and she turned and went back to the elevators. From there she could hear him whistle a joyful tune. Sadness overtook her heart, hoping that one day he wouldn't have a cloud of guilt hanging over his head, leaving him free to be truly happy.

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_**AN2: **SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASON 2 EPISODE 5 "RED SCARE". You are duely warned._

_Rigsby and Van Pelt... le sigh. All I can say is finally. You go Rigsby. And Van Pelt for making the first 'let's do the dirty tango' move. When they kissed, my heart leapt for joy. Seriously. I was so happy, you have no idea. Jane/Lisbon kiss, here we come. Fantastic!!!_


End file.
